Forsaken Princess
by Koneko Onee-chan
Summary: She was labelled as a cursed child from the day she was born; the Forsaken Princess. But what is the real story behind that title, and why 'princess' of all things? On Ghirahim's side she will live up to that hated name, but what if a golden-haired hero chosen by the Goddesses were to stumble upon her and break her free from his grasp? Sakura x Link.


Well, I've been meaning to rewrite this fic for a while now, but I've been a little bit too busy with work and my other fics. But I've finally got it up after inspiration smacked me straight in the face and I couldn't stop writing, strangely enough.

Hope you like this new version!

**Sakura is 14 years old at the moment, and there will be a time skip at chapter one or two. **

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**Forsaken Princess**

**By Koneko Onee-chan**

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Prologue

_Forsaken Princess_

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They were flying again, she could feel it; those large birds with magnificent colours, circling the sky high up above the soft clouds. She didn't know how she could feel something so far away –maybe it was like a connection, of sorts. She could feel the wonderful breeze blowing against their bright feathers and she felt free. The feeling it gave her when she felt them fly gave her the illusion that she was up there with them, her heart warming at the honeyed taste of freedom.

But as soon as it came it vanished, dragging her back to the reality of her prison. The hope she had that she was a princess locked in a tower, anxiously awaiting her prince or knight to save her had diminished long ago. She wasn't a damsel in some fairy tale book, and she gave up the silly thought of it. It took two years for her to finally admit that no one was coming for her; that and the fact that she knew no one knew she even existed.

After all, she was the child with a curse who was cast away since birth. She had never even glimpsed the sight of daylight beyond the walls encasing her from freedom.

A hot tear trailed down her cheek as she curled herself into a tight ball, silently weeping into the dark sheets of her large bed. Her long, long pale pink hair skewed across the side of the bed to lie tangled on the dusty ground; a length to show how long she'd been locked up, alone.

Of course there was always the misfortunate person who came to bring her food and drink, but she honestly didn't know why they bothered. If she was locked up, imprisoned in some tower without even a single window, then why go to the trouble to keep her alive? Wouldn't they be better off with her dead?

Her tears subsiding, she rolled onto her back to look up through one single reddened, puffy eye at the grim cracked ceiling, a painted picture of a large bird with colourful wings only just noticeable in the dark. She shuffled off of the bed slowly, sweeping her hair out of the way to stumble over to an oil lantern placed lonesome on the old desk to the side. Her slender fingers carefully turned the small dial, a flame erupting to life within the glass encasement. The small room illuminated dimly, casting flickering shadows where ever they could. It brought the colour of the painting to life, and she stared proudly up at it.

The painting was hers, drawn and coloured by sheer memory from her daydreaming that to her, seemed so significantly real. It _was _real, she reprimanded, because she could _feel _them; those vibrant birds.

She jumped over to the bed, the mattress springs creaking as she reached up and tentatively ran her fingers across the rough dry paint, her eyes closing as she imagined herself riding upon one, the fresh cool breeze blowing through her hair and caressing her face.

"My, what do we have here?"

The sudden voice made her jump, her balance lost as she fell onto her bottom on the bed, her jade-green eye wide in surprise. A figure stood not five feet from her, his appearance strange but also quite intriguing.

"Who are you?" She blinked against the sound of her voice; quiet and raspy from the near non-existent usage. Even when the usual person came to bring her food and water, she had hardly spoke. The person would always place the plates onto the desk, retrieve the ones from the previous day before, and then leave as quickly as they could.

The strange man chuckled, his white clad feet gliding across the floor until he stood in front of her, his waist bending as he reached his hand out to brush the long thick fringe from the side of her face, revealing her other mismatched eye in what appeared to be a child-like curiosity. A loud gasp left her throat and she pushed against him, scooting her body back to cower against the pillows.

"Don't!"

The man laughed and sat himself down on the bed, his strange purple-rimmed eyes staring intently at her face. She looked away, wanting nothing more than for him to leave her alone. It was deeply condescending to her wishes; her hopes of someone finding her and freeing her, but there was something about the man before her that made her feel on edge.

"So this is the cursed child that master spoke of." His words were not directed at her, but to himself, as if he were speaking his thoughts out loud on purpose. She cringed at her hated title and sunk further into the pillows, her back pressing against the bed frame through the cushioning of the encased feathers.

"Tell me, child," He leaned in towards her, close enough that she could feel his stark white fringe brush against her cheek, tickling the skin with its softness. "Do you want to be free?" His large dark eyes intently studied her face, watching every thought and emotion flicker in her eye as if she were the most interesting thing he'd come across in his lifetime. Her eyes widened, the other concealed, and her mouth opened but no words would come out.

A moment passed when she finally found her voice, a lump forming in her throat. She hesitantly pulled herself from the nest of pillows, her lip trapped between her teeth and visible eye adverted to the sheets tucked under her fingers, gripping them tightly.

"Why do you want to help me?" She whispered, testing the waters. After all, she didn't want to get her hopes up. A lifetime, her whole childhood of confinement made her sceptical of the undisguised meaning behind his words. She peered up at him, eyes hesitant.

He pulled back, only just, and tucked his neat side fringe behind his ear. Her breath hitched at the purple diamond-like mark on his left cheek and felt herself begin to shake, her hand reaching up to place her palm over her covered right eye.

"What...?" He grinned at her reaction and leaned in once again, his breath hot against her face. His fingers wrapped around her wrist to pull her hand away, inwardly surprised when he found no resistance, and brushed the hair away from her young, pretty face.

He felt a smile, a genuine curve of his lips etch itself onto his face as he peered at each of her eyes.

One a normal, but still unusual jade-green colour, whilst the other a deep blue. But it was the pupil in that mismatched eye that labelled her as the so-called cursed child.

What should have been a regular circular pupil was instead the shape of a diamond, swirling with dark purple. It signified the connection to his, their, master.

Now he knew why he'd felt a pull that lead him to the old, isolated tower. It was to lead him to her, the Forsaken Princess his master had him search for. The young girl that held a devastating power that would aid his master to bring the world to its knees.

No one could stop them once his master was revived from the damned seal placed upon him; not even the Goddess herself.

He stood, tossing his cape behind him and offering the pink-haired adolescent a hand. She reached out, pausing, her fingers curling slightly against her palm in doubt. His white eyebrows arched, and he surprised himself by patiently waiting for her to speak. He could see, almost feel the question on her lips, and his own quirked in amusement.

"What… What's your name?"

The question caught him off guard, his dark eyes blinking before a small chuckle left his mouth. He'd been expecting her to ask all sorts of different questions, except for the least obvious one. For now, he'd satisfy her by at least telling her that much. It would do no harm, he supposed.

"I am Ghirahim, child."

He watched as she processed the name, her eyes flickering with something he couldn't quite catch and a small, sweet smile curling her lips.

"Ghirahim. I feel as though that name is familiar, but I know I've never met you... obviously." She took his outstretched hand, wrapping her small fingers in his larger ones as she slowly stood, face slightly flushed from her embarrassing words. "I'm-" She froze, cutting herself off and lowering her eyes, self-conscious and humiliated. "I… just realized I... don't have a name."

Ghirahim narrowed his eyes, at a loss of how to proceed. Surely she had something to signify as a name… Unless they were too afraid of her to even give her that much. Disgusting creatures, he thought, somewhat angry they had thrown away such a sweet child; one he could, in a way, call his kin.

He sighed and tugged her up, startling her enough that she tripped over her own hair and crashed into his chest. A small squeak left her lips from the impact, and before she even saw him move, a blade appeared in his hand to cut away a large portion of her hair, leaving it to fall just below her waist. He eyed the pink tresses, a sudden thought coming to mind. He'd seen flowers the exact colour of her hair before, but he couldn't quite remember the name of them. It had been much too long ago.

The girl pulled away from him to run her fingers through her much shorter, but still long hair, her smile returning to her face. She looked up at him and opened her mouth to thank him when he suddenly widened his eyes in remembrance, his hand coming up to point directly at her jade-green eye.

"You will be called Sakura. I do not want to hear any complaints about the name, hear me?"

She surprised him yet again when her widened eyes began to tear, her teeth biting down on her bottom lip as she threw herself at him, wrapping her slim arms around his waist.

"Thank you, Ghirahim."

He could only pat her head uncomfortably before he realised what he was doing and began to pry her off, a scowl on his face. "If we are done here, then let us go. The air in this ridiculously tiny room is suffocating."

Without waiting for a reply or her consent, he tugged on her arm and teleported away in a haze of diamond-shaped particles, the oil lantern flickering before its flame died out, the colours of the painted bird lost in the darkness.

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**A/N: **Honestly, people can be such jerks sometimes. Sigh. Not like I give a crap, but still. Pisses me off when people can't give you nice, constructive criticism but can blatantly throw insults concerning your fic/writing style when the majority of the time, their's are just as bad.

Anyway, enough of the rant. I seem to be doing that a lot lately, but even worse in the real world. Hah. I would love, especially at this time of year with all the arrogant fools bustling about, to really scream out a 'SHANNARO!' and punch someone. :D

R&R and tell me what you think. Haters can 'rack-off', _constructive criticism _is wholeheartedly welcomed :]

If there's anything that don't make sense or you think I should change, tell me and I'll change it asap.

Ta!

**~Koneko Onee-chan**


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